


The Symptoms

by Sherlaufeyson



Category: British Actor RPF, British Comedy RPF, I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue - Fandom, The Goodies RPF
Genre: Blindfolds, Light Bondage, M/M, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlaufeyson/pseuds/Sherlaufeyson
Summary: Thoughts Tim has about Graeme past and present during the filming of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue.





	The Symptoms

**Author's Note:**

> Listening to the latest series of I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue and... this stuff just writes itself
> 
> Sketch: The Symptoms. Prompt: Tim and Kerry think they're roller coasters (S70E03: 16:20)

Inspired by this: [I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue: Series 70 Episode 3](https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m00019n4)

\-----------------

“I can’t help feeling people regard me as a bit of an amusement.” Tim was running out of roller coaster puns.

“Yes,” Graeme shot back. Suggestive. Tim smiled despite himself. Only Graeme could put so much innuendo and suggestion into that word. Only Graeme knew what it would do to him.

The implication of Graeme regarding him as an amusement was hanging in mid-air and he needed to say something quickly to clear it.

He managed to make some comment about vomiting, which Graeme countered by bringing the conversation back to him being an amusement. However, Graeme had phrased it as a compliment, and Tim took the easy way out. “Thanks, Graeme.”

It’s the interplay between them during the games that Tim loves most. He never really got to write with Graeme, but on a good day, he imagines this is what it would have been like.

Not that he was ever jealous of Bill. Bill was a brilliant writer, and as Graeme said himself, there was no way the two of them could write together. He and Graeme were too similar. They’d spend the entire writing sessions chatting. They did flirt with trying it a couple of times - it never worked.

Still, he’s glad that he gets to see this side of Graeme, for himself. Well, himself, and their panel teammates, and Jack, and a couple of thousand in the audience, and a few odd million on the radio when this is broadcast.

“Are you – what I can only describe as – a ride?” Graeme was loving this. He had pitched his voice at the exact tonality to send goosebumps down Tim’s spine. Astounding that he still had this reaction fifty-five years into their working relationship.

“Are you talking to me?” Tim asked incredulously. It was what made their relationship so good. They could always find a way to get behind each other’s defences.

It was exactly why twelve years into retirement, he was still doing it. 

Graeme had always been the dark horse. The youngest, mind as sharp as a tack, and with a dark sense of humour that could easily be overlooked if you took the kind smile, fuzzy chops, and bright eyes behind dark horn-rimmed glasses at face value. Of course, now when you add the influence of a few decades of comfortable living, he appears like a man-shaped cuddly toy. But Tim knows different.

Tim knew the Graeme that would happily tie you to the bedpost and leave you there, begging, until he was ready for you.

Tim knew the Graeme that would blindfold you, have you kneeling in the middle of the floor just out of reach, listening to him slowly stroking himself to completion.

Tim knew the Graeme that would take you apart, piece by piece. Break you down until you were nothing but want, desperate for his touch, until at last, he would give you exactly what you needed.

And now this. “Are you – what I can only describe as – a ride?” To everyone else, it was genial word play, a innuendo relating to an amusement park. But to Tim, it just took him right back there. Hard. Wanting. Desperate. 

That playful tone, dripping with dark promises that only he could hear.

“How shall I ride you today, Timothy?” Tim shook his head quickly to dislodge the thoughts that were bound to become apparent and distract him from the rest of the game.

If only Graeme knew how present that past was for him.

Although, if the subsequent glances he caught stealing his way were anything to go by, perhaps those times hadn’t been forgotten by Graeme either.


End file.
